.a written note.

The Radio in the bedroom next to where I'm sitting at the moment just played your favourite song. I could hear it so clearly that I wished it wasn't so achingly good to ears. Should I feel good that I heard that song after ages (not listened to it) or bad that it reminded of you? It reminded of a thousand things that you perhaps were. It covered a distance and became enveloped in your voice, the way it might have sounded if you'd sung it. The song was a black and white coloured, at times fading, short-film of how you were, overly nice. And how the chorus might have been ruled by the melody of your smile. All the epiphanies can, tonight, make a way for me to go in a wonderland and become Alice for a while. But, old friend, I've grown up too quickly to let it happen just like that. Because there are these rough wooden trees at the very entrance, more than happy to tell me your whereabouts. You've changed the lane where you once lived and you don't

Within the first few days of the new year, the battle of whether or not to write, or simply leave, I am completely unknown of the winner. The battle I was too tired to continue fighting in, still, I fought with time and those who tested my dignity. I didn't mind getting tested as long as people who stood two feet away from me did it, I just didn't know those closest could do it too, in one way or the other. I will sit in the wilderness someday and think of and about it. I always loved playing with time; the way I felt about it whenever I thought about it, how I used to feel like I'd lock it in a jar, go to a favourite place of mine and open it with a smile so broad that it'd come out happily and I'd suddenly dance to melodies. I dream to make it happen one fine day. I could not abandon. Neither this place nor the eyes that read what words play around here. I thought I could play with time and I want to try that now. For some unfathomable reason, I can't

Within last two weeks, I came here often, with thousands of thoughts in mind- wavy, talking each other out of complicating themselves and finally solving each other's mess, to help me write for there are few ways to communicate in. I hesitated to write despite visiting this place, because I brought along a decision whenever I came here. I cannot weave hundreds of words just to make it big, the decision that I have with me. I have chills getting over my hands as I write this. This is supposedly the last page that I'd be posting here. In other words, I'm putting an end to this place, shutting the doors. There is a reason behind this, of course there is. I don't ask you to understand it, surely you can't and it's okay. I wrote here the words that I never abandoned and trust me, I'm not abandoning anything even now. I just need to shut these doors for there's something else that's waiting for me to open it, to go for it. The love that I rece

Latika's Theme echoes in my ears and as much as life gives us chances to sing melodies wholeheartedly, I feel like singing it on this afternoon. It is the first day of the year, 2013, and as stereotypical as it gets, we all are given minds that are, somehow, dancing on the tunes we listened to last year. Last year. I wish you all a very happy new year and I wish you love. I wish that you understand that it's like the first rainfall in the month of June. Happiness, on the other hand, is what I'm yet to understand. But I want you to go ahead and seek it. Cherish your dreams and love the people around you while you're on the way and be loved in return. I hope that you give yourself time when you feel lost and live in a reverie. It's very rare that people find happiness through this way. People like that are rare. And I wish to meet them. This year, apart from teaching me lessons, showed me how emptiness happens. And what it does to one. Emptiness, again, is